Chapter Sixty-Two
I see Ollie leaving the hospital and I watch him glance around, looking for me.
I messaged him almost the very minute Ben and Toby left.
I told him I needed to see him right now.
That was it. That was everything I said.
It’s the middle of the night, or the early hours of the morning.
I’m losing track, because all I can think about is Ollie.
Ollie has been one of my best friends for a decade.
He knew he liked me – loved me – a long time ago.
And I was so late to the party, but I love him.
I have for so long. A quiet love that grew over the years into something so loud I could hardly ignore it.
It’s hard not to think of Ben’s words about wasted time.
‘Hi,’ Ollie says to me, shifting his backpack higher onto his shoulder. ‘You OK? It’s been a while.’
I nod, shy all of a sudden. ‘It has.’ It’s been a few months since we said goodbye. A few months since we admitted we were in love, but weren’t going to do anything about it.
I’ve had an hour and a half to wait for Ollie to finish his shift after he messaged back, confused, but willing to meet.
And even through all that waiting, pacing up and down in my flat and then continuing to pace up and down outside the hospital doors, I have no idea how to do this, what to say.
I know what I need the outcome to be. I just have no clue how to get us there.
‘I love you,’ I say, as if that was ever in doubt.
‘I love you too,’ Ollie says. But he doesn’t move to kiss me, doesn’t do anything other than look sad. Months later and he’s still standing his ground, honourably refusing to budge.
‘I’m going to make a speech,’ I announce, and Ollie issues a short chuckle as behind me an ambulance tears past on its way to A instead his eyes drift away while I’m speaking, as if he’s trying to piece it all together: the lack of a girlfriend in Ben’s life – either temporary or permanent; Ben going out and never saying where he went; the drinking, the unhappiness.
‘Bloody hell,’ Ollie whispers after I finish, his eyes still focused on a point in the distance as he takes it in, face sombre.
I wait. I want him to see the obvious, but in true Ollie style he doesn’t realise what this means for him, but simply wants the best for his friend. But any second now it’s going to click, and I can’t wait.
‘Is Ben OK? At being outed – to you … by you? I’ll bet that was awful for him.’
‘He didn’t love it, no. But I think it freed him a bit. He said I could tell you and Liv. But he doesn’t want anyone else to know just yet.’
‘I understand,’ Ollie says. He blows a puff of air out of his cheeks. ‘I’m so sad Ben didn’t feel he could tell me. But I get it. I think. I’ll give him a ring, let him know … I’m not sure what I’m going to say though. I’m too surprised to think. Since when?’
‘Maybe for ever; maybe since me, or before me. Or maybe I turned him gay,’ I joke.
Ollie snorts and looks me up and down. ‘Hardly. But he’s happy?’ he questions. ‘Really happy?’
‘He seems it.’
‘Then I’m pleased for him. For the first time since uni … this might be the first time Ben’s been happy. I’ve suspected he had someone, because I’ve seen a change in him for the better, but I didn’t suspect this.’
Behind me another ambulance whizzes towards A his arm brushes mine and I can’t help but steal glances at him. I’ve missed his face these past few months. So much wasted time, but for principled reasons. Reasons that no longer exist, reasons that no longer bar us from being together.
He’s quiet and so am I until we reach the London Eye, stilled at this hour, but the wheel is lit up on the outside, as usual, in a beautiful purple-red hue.
We keep walking towards the river and, when we reach it, Ollie looks at me, a smile forming on his face as we stop. I think he’s worked it out.
‘Tell me what else,’ he instructs.
‘You want me to tell you what this means?’ I query.
‘Mm-hmm,’ he says, the smile not leaving his face.
‘I asked Ben outright.’
‘What did you ask him?’ The smile is stronger now.
‘I think you know,’ I say quietly.
Ollie nods. ‘And what was his reply?’
‘I think you know. I think you know what Ben said. And because of that, I think you know why I messaged you in the middle of the night. I think you know why, after we’ve waited so long, why – after speaking to Ben – I couldn’t wait a single minute longer.’
Ollie inches towards me. His backpack slides down his shoulder and he lets it slide right down to the ground. ‘I’m sorry I made you wait.’
‘An hour and a half, Ollie.’
‘And all the years.’
‘And all the years,’ I repeat.
‘I hope,’ he says as he slowly closes the distance between us, angles his head to the side and pauses, analysing my face, my eyes, which must betray my excitement, my nervousness, ‘I hope all that time apart was worth it.’
‘I know it was,’ I whisper. ‘I can’t wait any more. I can’t wait for you – this – any more. We’ve waited long enough for this.’
‘We have,’ he says.
And painfully, excruciatingly slowly, Ollie touches his lips against mine and sparks fire between us like rockets, as he softly increases the pressure of his kiss.
My body falls against his as his hand touches my back, pulling me towards him.
And the years and years of not being able to do this take hold of us, forcing us into a breathless movement together, where it feels like there’s no one else but us.
As if there will never be anyone else but us ever again.
I hold on to the front of his shirt with both hands as if he’s not real, not here, and I need to be sure he is both of those things.
‘I love you,’ I tell him when Ollie pulls back, looks into my eyes uncertainly. Only now it feels different when I say it. Before, it always had a sense of something that could never be. A sense of loss. Now it holds so much potential, so much hope. It holds a future.
‘I love you too,’ he replies and smiles in disbelief, as if he feels all this too. ‘I love you,’ he says again, despite the fact we’ve said it before. But not like this. Because now it is different. Because now, finally, Ollie and I can be together.